The Monster
by Patchwork Poltergeist
Summary: There is a terrible Monster living in Animal Crossing. We must contain it.
1. Lucy

AN:

Inspired by listening to Tom Waits' "What's He Building in There?" while playing AC at two AM. It was also majorly inspired by the fantastic fanfiction "The Terrible Secret of Animal Crossing". While it's a fantastic work, and I completely dig the idea of there more going on in Animal Crossing that what the player see, I also thought it was worth noting the old mantra: They're just as afraid of you as you are of them.

* * *

The… _thing_ is back.

The Monster.

It disappeared for a while. I don't know where.

No animal has seen It for months. Almost a year.

I certainly don't know how It could have left; Cooper insists that it never left the gate. Booker says the same (but really, he's not the most reliable).

But I know It left. It must have.

…But how did it leave without using the gate?

Where could It have gone? There is nowhere for it to go, except Its own House.

When I noticed that the Monster had not emerged from its House in nearly a week (it was odd, you see, for the Monster came out nearly everyday, if only for a few hours) I quickly informed Tom. I expressed worry that somehow, It escaped. That somehow, It saw though the façade of the town It had named Canisp, and escaped.

Tom only smiled and laughed the way he always does that's very encouraging and calm, but at the same time somehow stern and mysterious. That's the thing about Tom. He is always smiling, and though it holds no ill will, when he laughs it's as if he knows something that you don't. (Something that you probably don't want to know, either.)

He rested a paw on my shoulder, and assured me that escape from Canisp was quite impossible. "It has produced a big enough House for itself, hm? Yes, yes, I'm sure It just got bored because it doesn't know how to make it bigger", he said, "There's plenty of furniture stored away in there to keep It entertained for quite some time".

Tom is certainly right about that. The Monster's House is the largest any one in this town has ever seen. The main room alone is twice - no, _thrice_ - as big as my whole house. And that's just the main room! There are many more rooms I have not seen into, for I can never seem to get past the main room. I have seen flashes of the other three entrances, and perhaps quick looks into the other rooms, but that's all. I cannot see past the entryways, nor past the stairwell.

I once got a full look at the room in back, though, for a split second when the Monster was not looking.

It was filled with the pictures of every single soul in town.

If this were anyone but the Monster, this may have been an impressive feat. With anyone else, it would have been a great show of love for the friends one has made in town. With the Monster, it's just… wrong. There was nothing warm or loving about that room. It was just a collection. The way some animals collected something like red furniture or fossils, It collected _us_.

Had I not seen it, I could not have imagined a house so terribly big. (I must emphasize terrible.) It is so big, I don't think you can call it a house…more like a mansion. A castle, even. I think the only building that is bigger is the museum, and even then, I think it's still close. Monster or not, why does anything need that much room? There is only one Monster and it really only needs one room to live in. All good animals have humble, happy little homes, and they are grateful for them. Our houses are not mansions, but they're ours, and they're big enough for our size. The Monster is no bigger than an Animal. Why does It need so _much_?

At night, you can see the lights blaring all the way across town. Seven glaring, blaring points of light in the dark, from an awful blue and white monolith of wood and glass.

They never switch off.

It's always watching us. I don't think it sleeps.

I think it is somehow appropriate that I'm the one who first noticed that the Monster is back, since I was also the last one to see it. It was outside ripping flowers from their roots and hacking into the tender flesh of spruce trees. It's because spruce trees bear no fruit, I think. No native apples, no foreign pears or cherries to sell for double price at Nookingtons. Spruce trees were of no use to It.

So It killed them all with the axe. (I _hate_ that axe.)

Some of the flowers - mostly the red roses - were wilting, so It ripped them up, killing them as well. That actually bothered me even more than the spruce trees. I mean, It just as easily could have taken the watering can and revived them. They did not have to die. They could have lived for weeks, months, longer. They only need water. It isn't like It doesn't know the habit of watering flowers, it gave care to the hybrids all the time, and it's not _that_ hard to just water the flowers a few feet from your door.

Actually, that's not entirely true. The Monster has been known to water some of the flowers, but as far as I am aware, it only bothers to care for the fancy hybrids that It has managed to breed. Like the fruit trees, hybrids have use - they are worth more money because they are rarer to see, and they are worth the trouble of letting them live. They're all lined up in perfect symmetrical shapes just outside the absurdly gigantic house in the lawn, not far from the small orchard of fruit trees. It's an impressive collection easily seen from the house, as the Monster sits in million bell chairs in the room filled with all of our photos.

Anyway, I know that It never watered common flowers. It ripped them straight from the roots. When It eventually noticed how bare the grass appeared, It simply bought more flowers to replace the dead ones. Soon, they would die, too; they too would be replaced.

After it cut down the spruces and finished ripped out all the dying common flowers, It gathered up its tools - the golden axe, the fishing pole, the golden slingshot, and the bags of bells It shook from all of the trees - and went into the House.

That was the last anyone saw of the Monster, eleven months and fifteen days ago.

Until tonight.

Tonight I woke at three in the morning; my television had awakened me because I had forgotten to switch it off when I went to bed. As I began to head back upstairs to grab the last few hours of sleep, I glanced out my window and there It was, right outside. The Monster, in a straw sunhat and sunglasses as big as saucers was watering the bed of white tulips by my window. It noticed me watching It and waved to me with a smile that seemed eerily friendly. Although I was still very much asleep, I had not forgotten Nook's warning that citizens should always be courteous to Monsters, lest they become offended and thus, agitated and destructive. I smiled and waved back until it left, despite not feeling like smiling at all.

I really feel as if I ought to tell Tom Nook about that odd behavior, but I already know he thinks I'm a little paranoid, thinking that his cautionary tales of Monsters has worked a little too well. He will tell me that I was just startled about the Monster's return, that's all. I can hear him now: "Lucy, watering a few flowers is a _good_ thing, remember? It's nothing to worry about, eh?" And alright, maybe he'd be right and I am overreacting a little.

Still, you have to admit: there's something really, really off about someone who waters your roses at _three in the morning_, wearing sunglasses with no sun.

* * *


	2. Ruby

-1One of these days, someone's going to ruin everything. I just know it.

Yeah, I know how I totally sound all pessimistic and stuff, especially coming from me of all people.

Geez, I am SO breaking character right now. Not peppy or hyper or ditzy at all - I hope Nook doesn't find out or he'll have kittens.

I really can't help it, though. I've been super on edge lately. There's this feeling of doom in the air, it's all heavy and… and _bad_. I can't help the feeling that someone is going to ruin the whole set up.

Oh, and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Ruby, it's because the Monster's back" Well, Mr. Smarty-ears, that's _not_ it. I knew the Monster would come back eventually. That's the way Monsters are, even if you don't see them for a while, they always come back because they don't really ever leave. Besides, it was just living in it's House. Duh, Lucy. Everyone _knows_ there's no escape.

No, see, I'm all nervous because of my new neighbor, whats-his-name. Wolfgang, I think. He's one of the grumpy ones - you know the type: old (I mean _old_, like 55 or something), all loudmouthed and temperamental.

Usually, there'd be nothing wrong with this, since someone's always assigned the Crotchety role. You need someone that's a little cantankerous to shake things up a little. After all, if every Animal were nothing but friendly and polite and helpful all the time, it wouldn't feel right. Monsters are scary, but they aren't stupid, not even the little ones. Eventually It'd notice something was off, and then things could turn ugly. You need a little variety in every town. Like, that's why everyone has different personality roles in the first place.

But here's the thing: I don't think Wolfgang's acting.

I think he actually **is **a mean, spiteful, old grouch. Not that there's a problem with that; anyone that's gotten the call to Cross has the right to be a little upset. What he doesn't seem to get, though, is there's a limit to just how much you can show your true colors in the town of Canisp. Especially around The Monster. Actually, I think - no, I'm positive that he's _especially_ nasty to the Monster.

What, did he not get the introduction package or something? Did, like, Nook forget to go over the rules with him? Does he want to see how fragile the patience of a Monster is?

I really don't think he gets it. I saw him bug hunting yesterday and he was all, "It's dumb to walk around on eggshells just because of some furless idjit with bad fashion sense"

The way he talks, it's as if the Monster isn't even a threat. And that's, like, just about the dumbest, reckless thing an Animal could ever think. Like Nook says, "The cleverest trick a Monster can pull is pretending it's not monstrous". The only reason they don't look dangerous is because they start out so cute. And because they haven't learned to how to be _really _horrible yet. I mean, the only reason our Monster smiles all the time and acts helpful-like is because we've all worked so hard and sacrificed so much to make sure the Monster's happy. As long as It is happy, our community is safe. More importantly, our world is safe. Yeah, we may have to make sacrifices a little bit here and there… or a whole lot… but it's all for the best. If the greater good means that we gotta separate from the rest of society in these ghastly (whoops! breaking character again) these gross (much better) little towns and pretend we're dumb and silly, then I'm all for it. Really, I am.

I think the real reason Wolfgang so blatantly disregards won't pay attention to the Crossing rules (besides being a jerk) is because he's so old. Think about it. It's not like he's got a long life ahead of him, like me. Maybe he thinks he's lived long enough.

Maybe he's actually old enough to remember a time without Monsters. (Wow, what a fantastic thought. I can't even imagine it).

Whatever his issue is, it's gonna really cost us eventually.

Know what the worst part is?

Normally, if I had Wolfgang's type in Canisp, I could at least sleep well knowing that if he did push the Monster too far, the rude, grouchy guy would be the first to feel Its wrath. I can't even take that comfort, not when the rude, grouchy guy is living right next door. That means if Wolfgang goes first, I'm going second, with no real time to escaping or anything.

…Then again, it might not be as bad as I'm making it out to be.

See, I know for a fact that the Monster doesn't like grouchy types. How? I've been here since the town was first called Canisp, one of the original six neighbors. Being here so long, I've noticed that the grouchy types have never stayed very long; they're always in and out in in constant rotation. I know that if the Monster really liked the grouches, they'd never rotate. It wouldn't let them.

That's the problem with the Animal Crossing Project, you see.

Picking who is drafted to Cross is supposed to be evenhanded. Every Animal serves their time and can eventually go back to their normal life when the Monster gets bored with them. That way it makes sure the Monster doesn't get too bored, and the draftees eventually get to go home. After all, there's no sense in keeping Crossers here indefinitely, it's the Monster that's stuck here forever, not us.

Or, that's what they tell you, anyway.

What they never mention to the new Crossers is that nothing is you can never be sure what a Monster is going to do. They're not predictable like us; they can be really random sometimes. Just because some Monsters are fickle doesn't mean they all are.

You know that the overall goal is to pacify the Monster to prevent destruction. For It to love the Town It's built and us Animals along with it.

It works _too_ well sometimes.

My problem is I'm the total opposite of Wolfgang. I've told the Monster hundreds of times that someday I'm gonna be a famous pro actor. That's a bit of a lie. I'm actually already a pro actor. Not that famous yet, but still an actor. I thought my edge would help me move on though serving my time, that if I did my job really well, I could move on faster.

What happened was the exact opposite.

The Monster has become incredibly fond of me. It visits me at least five times a day, every day without fail. It sends me letters. It sends me gifts for no reason at all. It remembers my birthday enough to come to my birthday party. It buys everything for sale at my Flea Market. It chosen my song for La-Ti-Day every single time - even when I purposely write bad tunes, it _still_ picks them! It never misses appointments with me, and It always gives medicine when I'm sick.

Certainly, none of these things are bad in themselves. It means I'm doing my job well. But… like, I said, that means the Monster likes me.

It likes me so much that it won't let me go.

The Rules say that you can move out if you want to. However, if the Monster catches you trying to move, there's always a chance that it'll ask you to stay. If It demands of you more than five times not to leave, than you must not cycle out and remain Crossing. If it feels strongly enough to bother asking that much, to leave anyway could have devastating effects.

I have been trying to cycle out for almost two years, now. I've tried moving in the early morning. I've tried moving at midday, when It's usually sleeping. I've tried moving on Event Day, when the Monster is distracted by fishing or selling stuff or whatever.

Nothing works. It always catches me, and it always makes me stay.

I'm seriously starting to think that I'm never going to see my family again. I might be here for the rest of my life.

If Wolfgang really is going to push the Monster over the edge, I just hope he gets it done fast. Get it over with now, or stay forever. I really hate living next to that idiot, but I really don't think I can stand seeing someone else move out and leave me behind.

The worst part is I wasn't even drafted. I actually signed up for this. I thought I knew what I was getting into. Of all the things I expected out of a Monster, I'd have never thought it would do this.

Seriously, Wolfgang.

If you're not going to ruin everything soon, I'm going to have to do it for you.


End file.
